


Papaoutai

by InsertACreativeNameHere__SlavicViking



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hiccstrid - Freeform, Modern AU, Searching, developing hiccstrid, i think it's fluff, mentions of valka - Freeform, through the ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 11:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14307270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertACreativeNameHere__SlavicViking/pseuds/InsertACreativeNameHere__SlavicViking
Summary: ModernAU. What you're searching for is not always what you find.(Title from a song of Stromae)





	Papaoutai

**Papaoutai**

_8 years_

“You’re in my seat.”

A small boy’s head shoots up from his sketchbook to see a scowl and a pair of pretty yet intimidating eyes glaring his way. The girl flips her uneven bangs from her eyes and crosses her arms with a huff.

“Oh,” her frown deepens and he feels his cheeks tint red. “Oh! Sorry!”

He quickly stands up, banging his knee on the table. The bench wobbles a bit.

“Whatever,” the girl says with a wave of her hand and slides in the seat previously occupied by him. Noting he remained standing by the table, she raises one of her eyebrows questioningly.

“What?” she asks sharply, satisfied to see the boy’s eyes widening. Astrid leans on her elbows. “I haven’t seen you around. You new?”

The boy nods silently. She looks around the playroom of the orphanage and bites her lip. The book in his hands catches her attention.

“What’s that?” she points to it with her head. He glances at it, then at her again.

“Nothing,” he shrugs, his voice higher than before. Astrid squints before snatching the book into her own hands. The boy yelps in protest but it’s too late – she’s already opened the sketchbook, browsing through the pages.

“Dragons?” she asks, glancing at the boy. He nods again, carefully sliding himself next to her, and fiddles with his hands in his lap as she continues looking through the drawings. Finally, she closes the sketchbook.

“Dragons are cool,” she concludes ceremonially with a nod. He breathes a sigh of relief, only now realizing just how much he’s been waiting for the acceptance of the girl he just met. Astrid stretched out her arms before her. “What’s your name, dragon boy?”

He bites the inside of his cheek and reaches out for the notebook.

“Hiccup.”

“Hic-cup?” she stares at him incredulously. He nods again. She decides it’s a bit unnerving. The dragons were pretty fun though. She sticks out her hand.

“I’m Astrid. Astrid Hofferson.” She puffs out her chest and holds her head high. The boy, Hic-cup, blinks before shaking his hand with hers. She jumps a little when his much colder skin comes in contact with hers.

“Sorry,” he winces. Astrid shrugs.

“T’is okay,” she hands him the notebook. “Friends?”

He takes the sketchbook gingerly, running his thumb over the cover in thought, before shyly meeting Astrid’s gaze. He smiles.

“Friends.”

***

_14 years_

“That’s a weird name,” Astrid narrows her eyes at the page. Hiccup shrugs and glances back towards the computer screen.

“It says here that he’s the owner of the whole business company.”

Astrid shifts closer to the boy and leans over to see better.

“Impressive,” she admits with a small nod and turns the page of the old notebook. “She seemed…happy.”

Hiccup glances her way unsurely.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugs and observes his mother’s messy handwriting, dotted with little doodles across the slightly yellowed pages. His stomach does a weird flip when he sees tiny hearts sprinkled here and there. A hand lands on his shoulder and he jumps in his seat.

“Sorry,” Astrid apologetically smiles his way. He ignores the buzzing feeling in his chest and returns the smile warily. His eyes fall to the article he found on the Internet. A photo of a broad-chested man with fiery red beard tied in a braid looks nothing like him at first glance. But the more he looks, the more he notices. The shape of the nose, the eyes, the curled smile – they do look familiar and it makes him feel…strange.  

“What’s the plan then?”

He almost chokes on his saliva. Astrid quirks an eyebrow at his reaction.

“Wh-what?”

“Y’know, the plan,” she gestures the space around he vaguely and Hiccup is hit with the thought that he’s rubbing off on her too much. “With your dad?”

“I guess…,” Hiccup shifts in his seat. “find him?”

“You don’t seem convinced?” she inquires with a smile and a nudge. He bites his lip in consideration, drumming his fingers on the plastic case of their shared laptop. He sees the red-haired mountain of a man on the screen and grins, his head turned to the girl next to him.

“Astrid, I’m going to find my dad.”

_17 years_

“Hiccup-“

Astrid reaches to touch his shoulder but he leans away. It stings.

“He was supposed to be there.”

She swallows but it does not ease up the bump in her throat, nor does it loose up the knots in her stomach. He sits on the edge of the sidewalk, slouched, hands pressed to his face and she feels a painful jolt inside her chest. She knows well how disappointment that big feels.

“We checked everything – he was supposed to be there, Astrid,” He rasps out before looking up at her. “Why wasn’t he?”

Astrid kneels before him and takes his face into her palms. His eyes, pained, raw with emotion, meet hers. She catches two streams of dried out tears and she reaches to touch his cheek. She wants to kiss the tears away, grasp his hands and pull him to her chest, let him cry out his sorrow. Instead, she stays where she is, giving him the space he needs.

“I, I don’t know,” she shakes her head slowly. “But it doesn’t mean you will never find him, Hiccup.”

He pulls away from her touch and for a brief moment she is scared she said something wrong. But then he takes her hand in his own. Warmth spread all over as she squeezes his hand back.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his eyes slowly sliding across her face. There was something in his expression she can’t quite decode.

“What for?” she asks because, frankly, she doesn’t know. Kneeling in the middle of the street two cities away from their orphanage, soaked from the rain that surprised them and with barely a penny to their name, she can’t think of a reason he would want to thank her for.

“For being here,” the corner of his lips quirks just slightly in a shy attempt at a smile. “For doing this with me.”

‘You’re my best friend’ doesn’t quite cut it, she realizes. Not with the recent undertones, with the innocent kisses on the cheeks, with hugs longer and tighter than before, with stolen glances. Most importantly, with her own traitorous heart.

“Always,” she murmurs, only then realizing what it can imply. She throws a quick look his way, testing the waters, but he only smiles softly in response.

Feeling her tights ache from the uncomfortable position, she slides herself beside him on the edge of the sidewalk. His head falls to rest on her shoulder, his soft hair tickling her neck, and she decides it feels right. Her fingers find their way into his hair, as they do, and she weaves a braid into them.

“We will find him, Hiccup.”

_20 years_

“Are you kidding me?”

Hiccup throws up his hands in exasperation.

“Sir, with all due respect, this is a public-“

“Where is he then?” he ignores the woman’s interjection, trying to snake a glance inside the office. He feels a tug on his arm from Astrid, but he dares to lean in a little more.

“That’s confidential,” the woman in too short skirt and too tight blouse replies, annoyance clear on her face. She makes a move to close the door but Hiccup slides the prosthetic foot in-between.

“I’m his son,” the announcement only makes her scowl deepen and he feels his heart sink.

“I am afraid I have to ask you to leave,” her hand hovers over the doorknob.

“No – please,” Hiccup takes a step forward, causing the woman to draw back, a glimmer of fear in her otherwise dull eyes. “At least tell me when he’ll be back.”

“I’m sorry,” and with that, the doors close. He tries to turn the doorknob but it doesn’t budge. It’s suddenly very quiet.

“Stupid!” Hiccup kicks the door with his right leg. He regrets it instantly, yelping in pain and muttering curses under his breath. The air is stuffy, the corridor too narrow. He finds it hard to breathe as the room spins and the contours blur.

“Hiccup,” he feels a hand on his arm. Astrid holds him up, helps him lean against the wall. Instead, he wraps his arms around her shoulders, making them both stumble. She doesn’t complain and slides her arms out to enfold him in a hug.

Half an hour later they are wandering around the city, hand in hand, orange sky tinted with red on the horizon. He feels Astrid’s eyes on him the whole way back towards the railway station. He knows she wants to say something but for some reason she bites it back. That is, until they reach their platform and the tickets for the train are creased into oblivion.

“Hiccup, maybe it’s a sign-“

“Don’t. Please don’t,” he begs her but she shakes her head.

“What you’re searching for, it’s not there,” she points to the city in the distance before pressing her palm over his chest. “It’s already here.”

He takes her hand into his and brings it to his lips to leave a chaste kiss on her knuckles. She smiles, taking his other hand, with the crumpled tickets, into her own.

“I’m so lucky to have you, M’lady,” her grin stretches beautifully across her face as he says it. His grip on her hand tightens as he continues.

“But I need to try one more time.”

_23 years_

“It’s too expensive.”

Astrid leans over the counter in their shared kitchen and pulls her bag closer. She takes out her phone and checks the messages, shooting her fiancé a concerned glance from time to time.

“What if we-“ Hiccup slumps in his seat, undoubtedly doing the math in his head. “Okay, maybe not. But-“

“Hiccup, maybe we should just…postpone it,” she slides by his side on the couch, reaching to wove in a small braid by the nape of his neck. He pulls away to look at her, eyes unfocused.

“Astrid, it’s my dad,” he shifts in his seat and takes her hands into his own. “We’re _this_ close.”

“I _know_ it’s your dad, Hiccup,” she sighs and shuts her eyes for a moment. “but we’ve been trying to find him for _years_. Don’t you think that it’s time to, to move on? Focus on your family here?”

“Move on? Astrid, you say like it’s some kind of a-“ he shakes his head. “I can’t do that, not when he’s so close. How can I not-“

“I’m pregnant,” the words tumble out of her mouth and he stares at her, eyes wide and lips parted. “That wasn’t,” she hugs herself. “that wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

“Is that – are you for real?” the corner of his mouth lift just slightly. She nods slowly.

“Yeah,” she admits. Slowly, a grin stretches across his face. He pulls her closer and plants a kiss on the crown of her head, laughing into her hair. She hugs him.

His eyes fall to the red-headed man on the computer screen and he _feels_ the sense of longing. However, as he shifts and looks at Astrid, at her bright smile, at her glistening eyes, the empty void fills up with something new, something exciting.

He closes the laptop.

It’s time.

_26 years_

“Babe, you have ice cream on your shirt.”

“Hm?” Hiccup glances at his green shirt to, indeed, find an ugly stain on his chest. “Oh, right. _Someone_ was having trouble aiming into their mouth.”

His eyes trail to a blonde girl on the sofa. She shrugs with a shy smile, remnants of the said ice cream still visible at the corners of her mouth. He leans over to ruffle his daughter’s hair and she yelps.

“Daddy!”

Astrid shakes her head at them, a fond smile gracing her lips. She’s about to reach for her husband’s hand when she hears a knock on the door. Their eyes meet, surprised.

“Who could that be?” Astrid slides out her phone. “At that hour?”

Hiccup shrugs before lazily pulling away from his wife. He opens a door mid-yawn.

…and lets out a chocking sound.

“Does, um,” the man on the side of the doorway coughs awkwardly and pulls out a little piece of paper with smudged writing. “does Hiccup Haddock live here?”

Hiccup lets out a strained noise as he stares at the red-haired, burly man that has been staring at him from the computer screen for the past twelve years. Real. In his doorway.

“You?” he grips his hair. “Here?”

He has no idea what to do, or what to say. Despite numerous scenarios he practiced in his head over the years – sometimes they hug, sometimes they scream and argue, pent up frustration taking over, sometimes they cry together – he feels out of place. Should they…should they embrace each other? Or not?

“Stoick DeVast,” the man introduces himself, as if they both do not know who the other one is already. The man – his father? – shifts. “I’m your-“

“Yes,” Hiccup cuts in with a nod before he realizes. “Sorry, I, um… Why don’t you…why don’t you come in?”

As Stoick passes by him, his eyes on him the whole time, Hiccup is hit with the realization.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

He hears Astrid’s surprised gasp and the sound of glass breaking echoes around the small apartment. Hiccup stumbles into the living room. His father is already bent down, helping Astrid out with gathering the remnants of what was a glass just a moment ago. She apologizes profusely and he notes she’s just as stressed and shocked as him.

“Thank you,” she smiles and shifts her eyes to meet his. Her grin stretches wider, and he is suddenly hit with a surge of happiness.

This is him, his father – there, in his living room. He is not a lifeless image, a legend, an unfulfilled wish; not anymore.

“I’ve looked for you,” he informs, and he doesn’t know if he says it more to him, or to himself. Stoick takes his eyes off the little girl on the sofa, observing him with undeniable curiosity, and smiles.

“Aye. I’ve done my share of searchin’ too,” his heavy accent is unexpected, but it fits perfectly. Hiccup feels his eyebrow arching in question.

“You-“ he breathes out. “You looked for me?”

His father lets out a hearty laugh and shakes his head a little.

“It’s a long story.”

“Well,” Astrid buts in, hands clasped on her hips. “You’re in luck. We were just about to have dinner.”

 


End file.
